The Heart of a Duke

by Samantha Grace

Papa stepped up. “And what have you chosen to do for us?”

  “I’ve chosen a scientific entertainment for you today.” Jonathan spoke to the crowd, but his eyes were on her. A shiver ran through her.

  “Do you have a chill?” the duke asked. “I can have a footman fetch you a cloak.”

  Alison swallowed and shook her head. “No, thank you. I’m warm enough.”

  As a matter of fact, she was over-warm, despite the nip to the air.

  Jonathan’s gaze held hers. Suddenly it seemed as if the rest of the group had gone, taking the world with them and leaving only him in the center of the green grass with her. His words were for her alone.

  “Some objects have a sort of energy all their own, a power if you will.” He tore bits of paper as he spoke, creating a small pile. “One might not think anything of it in passing, yet these simple objects have the ability to attract when in contact with the right object. With a little patience, one can look at the world anew.”

  She caught her breath and it swelled in her chest. He’d remembered her words. She hadn’t even believed he’d been listening.

  Jonathan grasped the stick of sealing wax, rubbing it vigorously between his palms. “One can see these amazing items for the astounding, and far from mundane, objects they are.”

  After a moment of rubbing, he held it to the bits of paper piled on the table. As it neared, the papers jumped up to adhere to the stick. The crowd gasped in unison and stole her silent moment alone with him. Along with the bright day and the crowded garden, came an intense sense of loss.

  “Brilliantly done, my friend.” Papa clapped Jonathan on the back, but Jonathan’s eyes didn’t leave hers for another instant.

  Then he blinked and looked away, and Alison wondered if he felt a similar sensation.

  She realized the duke was speaking to her.

  “ . . . after I broke him, I rode him exclusively for more than a year.”

  “That is most fascinating,” Alison said, hoping it was the correct response. “What color was she?”

  “Midnight is a solid black stallion.” The duke lifted an eyebrow and she fought to keep from cringing. Apparently he must have said that already.

  “Oh.” She swallowed and glanced back at Jonathan, who hesitated. After a moment of staring at her and the duke, he straightened his shoulders and strode directly to the seat on Alison’s other side. He sat and the duke stiffened beside her. Alison swallowed as her father introduced another lord.

  She didn’t want to lean in any direction and make the men fight. What an odd thought. She’d spent her last season firmly against the wall. Now she had two men giving her attention. The only trouble was, the man she could share her true self with would never offer and the man who might offer would never really understand her.

  The real tragedy was she wouldn’t even be able to choose between them, because by the end of the party, her father would choose the duke and Jonathan would still be seeking his commendations.

  Jonathan stood from the breakfast table while footmen cleared the final course.

  The earl, dressed in a dark green hunting jacket, spoke to his guests. “Now that my daughter’s birthday has arrived, and since we are swiftly approaching the end of our party, I felt it my duty to outdo everything that I have done before. So, my friends, I have decided that the final day of entertainment shall be an all day event.”

  Murmurs came from around the table, but no one was surprised. The servants had been gossiping about the plans for the last day for nearly a week; even Jonathan had heard about it.

  As the attendants ambled outside, Jonathan drew his paper from his pocket and glanced at the scribbled notes. For the past few days, he’d been trying to decipher an answer, but the more he read over his thoughts, the more they began to sound like nonsense. A singular thing had filled more and more of his waking hours, a singular thing with a perpetual smile, twinkling eyes, and endearing nervous energy.

  What was wrong with him? At least he knew the answer to that particular conundrum. He’d been too distracted to pay attention. Even skipping the morning walk to find his answer, which had allowed Langley time alone with Alison, and yet it had come to nothing. He still didn’t have an invention or discovery to make him worthy of her.

  He pressed a hand to his forehead. Perhaps he should begin researching in a different vein. He could explore magnetic power and any possible correlation it might have to electrical energy. There had to be some way to prove himself worthy of her, but if it took much longer, Langley might take her from him forever.

  He’d appreciated Alison’s mind, her sweet disposition, and her ample curves since the day they had met. For all that and more, he’d entertained the idea of marrying her for some time now. However, until Langley began to show interest, and Jonathan began to fear he’d lose her, his desire had never been so immediate. Then again, he’d never had to face the prospect of losing her before. He had to do something now, or he would lose this fight for the one woman he could really enjoy marrying.

  He tried to focus on his half-sheet, but a puff of some light material caught his eye, and he glanced up to see a frowning lady coming straight toward him. Vallie, as he’d heard Alison refer to her. But she was Countess of Ravenswood now, if he recalled correctly. Jonathan stepped back, still holding the paper up as he often did to avoid needless conversation.

  The countess stopped in the doorway, eyeing him with a set jaw, as if trying to decide something. Jonathan stared at his paper, but watched her from the corner of his eye. Something about her reminded him of Alison—some quality of insecurity lying deep within a pool of inner strength and determination.

  As if his unspoken thoughts had reminded her of that pool, she stuck out her chin and said, “What precisely do you think you are doing?”

  Jonathan looked around, certain there must be someone else nearby. “I’m sorry, Lady Ravenswood, are you speaking to me?”

  “Of course I’m speaking to you.” She placed her hands on her hips, lifting an eyebrow. “And for Alison’s sake, I believe you owe us both an answer.”

  He blinked. “Was there a question?”

  “Yes.” She frowned. “What do you think you’re doing? Lady Alison is outside at this very moment with the Duke of Langley and you’re in here staring at that scrap of paper you’ve been carrying everywhere.”

  A prickle of anger heated his neck, not at what she was saying, but at the thought of Langley with Alison. The man was being persistent. “Oh? And why should that concern me, my lady?”

  Her mouth rounded into a gentle “o”. “Well, you obviously care for her. I see how you look at her. And she cares for you too. Far more than she ever could for a man like Langley.”

  His chest expanded with some unnamed sensation. His obvious affections weren’t as nerve wracking as the idea Alison might actually prefer him. Could he dare to believe that their conversations over the years, and especially in the last few days when they had become far more honest, had meant as much to her as they had to him?

  “Listen to me. Charlotte said their father has insisted Alison choose a husband during this party or he will choose one for her.”

  “Why would he do that? She’s only just turned twenty; she isn’t even in the vicinity of the shelf let alone sitting upon it.”

  “I’m not sure why, but Alison is a sweet lady and she deserves the best life may afford her. Still, she wants to make her family happy, and she’s going to do whatever it takes to do that.”

  Hooding his eyes, he asked, “And marrying the duke will make her family happy?”

  “I don’t know, nor do I care, what will make her family happy. I care about what will make my friend happy. If you don’t find a way past whatever it is that is holding you back, the duke is going to steal her away, and she will be miserable for the rest of her life.”

  She would have all his vast wealth to study her experiments. Surely that would make her happy. He imagined her standing in some massive estate with those unusual
spectacles on, showing the duke some specimen or other and frowned. Even the thought made him clench up and he suddenly wanted to storm to the duke’s side and engage in some unusually physical retribution. “But I thought the goal of every debutante was to ensnare a duke. Why wouldn’t you want that for her?”

  “Because she doesn’t love him and she deserves to have what she truly wants. I believe that is you.” His gut clenched as she spoke the words he’d hoped to hear, but never allowed himself to entertain long. “She hasn’t said as much. In fact, she’s far too quiet on the subject. That silence, and the way she behaves around you, are enough to convince me. Why, I’d wager a year’s allowance on it.”

  Jonathan pinched his chin, gazing at his paper, but didn’t speak.

  “I know what matters to me, which is why I told you of this. Now you must decide what really matters to you.” With a nod, she walked down the hall toward the front steps.

  He stared at the empty doorway for a moment, then shook his head. He wouldn’t be told what to do or when to ask his intended bride to marry him. He owed it to Alison to make himself worthy of her, no matter what the countess thought.

  But what if her father had truly made such an ultimatum and his delay really would make him lose her?

  Chapter Seven

  A large ring stood amongst the green trees of the riverside. The group surrounded the tables, which were filled with food and drink. Papa stepped forward as Alison accepted the glass of punch the duke offered. If only Jonathan had come with the group, but he’d chosen to remain in his relentless pursuit.

  “What sport has your father prepared for us this time? Something I’m abysmal at, no doubt.”

  Alison smiled at the duke’s comment. He wasn’t a terrible person, now that she’d come to know him. She suspected he was something like she and Charlotte were—a touch unsure of himself, deep down. It was an odd thought, considering he was a duke, but she couldn’t help but think it. The notion didn’t comfort her, when she imagined Jonathan and their long conversations on the properties of magnetic power and the harnessing of energy for use in the modern world. It also didn’t comfort her when she found her skin tingling or her breath fleeing at a word or a look from Jonathan. For all his handsome features, wealth, and power, the duke had never, not once, made her heart skip a beat.

  She smiled, a soft smile that didn’t reach her heart. “Now that we’ve completed the archery competition, I believe he has planned some sparring between the gentlemen.”

  She couldn’t keep herself from glancing at the path leading to the manor, as if Jonathan might somehow round the bend. He wouldn’t, of course, but her eyes and heart didn’t seem to believe what her mind told them.

  “Splendid.” Langley frowned into his cup as he took a sip. “Where is your father? I wish to speak with him for a moment before he tears away the last shreds of my dignity.”

  Alison snorted, then covered her mouth with her fingertips and pointed to where Papa stood near the ring, which consisted of four sturdy wooden posts with rope running the inner length.

  Charlotte came to stand beside her. “This should be an interesting competition. Though I’m not certain I wouldn’t rather be reading a book.”

  “I believe I’d rather be in the library myself.”

  “You might change your mind in a moment.” Charlotte lifted an eyebrow. “It seems we have a late-comer. Welcome, Mr. Foster.”

  Alison’s heart stopped dead in her chest. She couldn’t turn. If she did, he might not be there.

  “Hello, Lady Charlotte. Lady Alison.”

  “You’ve decided to join us after all?” Charlotte asked as Alison finally made her legs move.

  One corner of Jonathan’s mouth lifted. “Well, a little competition is good for the soul, from what I’ve heard.”

  Papa strode forward, his mouth set into a hard frown, and called to the group, “I’ve planned some sparring for the next event. Any able-bodied man wish to challenge another to spar?”

  “I will. I challenge the Duke of Langley”—he bent to grasp a straight stick from the ground, testing the thick branch with his thumbs—”but I’d prefer fencing, if you and His Grace do not object.”

  Langley stepped out from behind Papa, his chest broad. “I accept the challenge.”

  Papa nodded. “To five points then, or until a branch breaks, and be gentlemen about it.”

  The duke retrieved a stick from the ground and tested its flexibility in a similar fashion, his gaze burning as he stared at Jonathan. “A good number. Shall we?”

  Jonathan gave a curt nod and Alison glanced from man to man as they took their stances. The excitable and bookish scientist with no notice of his surroundings seemed to disappear behind the fencing stance.

  They took their guard, and there was a flurry of action. Sticks swooped and smacked against each other. Alison couldn’t keep her mouth from dropping open. He had said he was passable, but he must have trained most of his life. Alison gathered her skirts in her hands, heedless of crushing the material. Jonathan advanced. Swoop, swoop, smack.

  “A point for Mr. Foster,” Papa said, though his voice muffled beneath the buzzing in her head.

  Sticks cracked together again, slamming against each other over and over in a cacophony of dull thuds. The crowd parted. Jonathan backed away from the duke, blocking a near strike. Alison’s hand flew to her mouth and she stepped away from the fray. Jonathan lunged. The duke blocked, turned, and brought his stick around Jonathan’s. They backed away from each other, circling.

  Jonathan lunged again.

  “Another point for Foster. That’s two, my good man.”

  The duke’s face turned red, his eyes filled with fire. He unleashed a ferocious attack. Jonathan retreated a few steps, deftly blocking blows as he moved until . . . smack.

  “Well done, Langley. Two to one, Foster.”

  Jonathan danced about the clearing. His feet moved, swift and graceful in a way that most ladies wished they could dance. Yet his back grew broader and his muscles strained, in true masculine form, as he worked feverishly to land a blow. But it was his eyes that struck Alison hardest. His gaze had gained a gleam that charged her body with electricity. She’d never known he had such power inside him. With each blow delivered, she fought not to shout, and with every blow received, she could not help but wince.

  A flash of red-gold hair shimmered in the sunlight, and Alison only spared a single glance at Vallie whose fingertips pressed to her lips. “Oh my. Did Mr. Foster attack Langley with a stick?”

  “No.” Alison didn’t take her eyes off the fencing pair. “Papa asked them to spar, and Jonathan suggested they fence. He’s rather good.”

  “Thank heavens. I’d thought . . . “

  When she didn’t finish, Alison glanced at her then narrowed her eyes. “Where have you been?”

  “Just over there. Didn’t you see me?” She waved vaguely toward the tables.

  Alison was about to ask again when her father’s voice stopped her. “Another point Langley. Four to three, Foster. Come now men. Let’s have our winner.”

  The men burst into a flurry of motion. Langley scrambled back, Jonathan advanced, stick bashed against stick, and Alison’s fingers clenched at her skirts. Jonathan dropped to one knee in a feigned lunge, but when the duke tried to sidestep, Jonathan brought his stick around behind the duke’s and cracked it against the duke’s side.

  “Mr. Foster wins.”

  The crowd roared and the duke nodded to Jonathan, his gaze softened in a way Alison hadn’t seen before. He dropped the stick, his breath coming hard. “My second strike was a lucky one. You have skill.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace.” Jonathan nodded back, then his gaze moved to Alison, his eyes intense.

  She smiled, her entire body tingling with the power of his stare, and finally opened her aching fingers and released her skirt.

  Jonathan returned his gaze to the duke. “You have some skill yourself.”

  Alison wanted to c
ongratulate Jonathan, but the crowd converged on him. As she stepped forward, she caught sight of Papa standing with Charlotte and Vallie, their heads together. Before Alison could enter the crowd, Papa caught her eye and beckoned with a nod. With a single glance toward the group, she walked past Jonathan, who watched her go.

  Vallie and Charlotte left an instant before Alison joined them, which wasn’t a good sign. “You wanted to see me?”

  His expression, an odd strained smile, was one she’d never seen before. Her muscles tensed.

  “Have you been enjoying the party I’ve set up for you?”

  “Yes, Papa. It’s delightful.” She wanted nothing more than to peek over her shoulder at Jonathan. Seeing him might give her the strength for what she feared her father might say. “The games and challenges have been delightful and the company is delightful.”

  Papa’s brow furrowed, as if he suspected her trepidation. “Magnificent. And do you feel you’ve been able to get better acquainted with the gentlemen we invited?”

  “Yes.” Her hands began to shake and she hid them in the folds of her dress.

  His smile relaxed. “Grand news. I think you will be overjoyed with the very suitable man who has asked for your hand.”

  The warmth drained from her face. The duke. He was the one man her father seemed to speak to most.

  He stared at her a moment. “Your mother and I had hoped for a very specific outcome, when we set up this party, and I’m certain we are all about to get exactly what we wish for.”

  Alison bit her tongue, not wanting to say she very much doubted that. She didn’t even think it was what the duke truly desired. He seemed more desperate to finally find a wife who would have him, than desperate for her.

  “I couldn’t be more pleased, and your mother will be ecstatic.” Papa pressed a hand to her shoulder. “Now go to the clearing beyond to meet and accept your new husband.”

  The emphasis her father put on the word accept told her she wasn’t to refuse the duke. Her heart fell, despite the tense happiness coming off her father in waves. She had always found smiles easy, but now she couldn’t find it in her to lift even one corner of her lips.